


Team Opportunity

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Deviates From Canon, Everybody Ships It, F/M, First Kiss, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock being a prat, Sorry Not Sorry, Teenlock, betting games, first fic, fluff-ish? i guess?, greg is that person that does most the project, i like tags, i ship mormor, irene and jim being secretive lil creeps together, irene being badass, irene is still my favourite character, jim and seb are ridiculously cute, mary tries to make a move on john, rugby!john, science projects usually take up about four weeks right, secret notes, sorry about the tags, sorry molly, stupid team names, thats john and sherlock, then we have sherlock and john being oblivious, they ship it too, we all have those team members who sit around, whelp here i go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-25 18:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2631047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock usually loves science, but a certain idiotic decision pairs him up with a certain John Watson. Not that that's a reason to complain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Team opportunity: The Making Of.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is my first fic, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. If you feel like contributing to the drabble and one-shot collection I'll be writing, contact me on my tumblr: http://i-am-not-your-baby-unicorn.tumblr.com/

Sherlock Holmes sighed and lifted a test tube. Science was usually the only subject he was interested in, mainly because the teachers had received strict orders to “Bugger off and leave the freak to do whatever he wants to do” as Sally Donovan put it, with an ominous nod in Sherlock’s’ general direction and a look of approval from a certain Philip Anderson. This earned them both a nasty mental note in his mind palace (although she was right about the whole “let him do what he wants to" thing, Sherlock thought).  
But today was different. The teacher, instead of starting on her childish (and oh-so-mundane, no dissections or anything, just planets and stars and other crap like that) lesson plan, began walking up and down the aisles of chairs, proclaiming something to the class.  
It was a small class as most high school classes go, but Sherlock was glad for it. Less noise. Less people. Advanced science was taught in strict, enforced silence and the general rule that everybody subconsciously agreed on was the fact that any disruption of this ‘law’ (Sherlock smirked as some idiot at the back of the class dropped a beaker of hydrochloric acid and swore loudly, earning a dozen or so angry glares.) would be punishable. By what exactly, it was decided by the friends of said disruption. Sherlock guessed it was something of a game to them. Not that he minded it. At least the ‘pact of silence’ didn’t involve begging for homework or calling him all sorts of colourful names, ‘freak’ being favoured by a certain loudmouthed Miss Donovan.  
This certain Miss Donovan was in the middle of a hushed argument with her (cheating, Sherlock noted.) boyfriend. From what was going on only a few minutes before, he could only guess that this particular guy had dropped the acid (said acid is burning through the linoleum- remember to check on lino later for speed of reaction, bearing in mind that it was diluted with water in the ratio 1:8) and was now trying to regain his dignity by clearing it up as quietly (albeit still very loudly) as he could.  
A voice jolted him out of his observations. The teacher (Mrs Montgomery? Ms Montsmith? He never was good with names. Tedious. Obvious. Boring in the full meaning of the word) was leering over his desk.  
“Sherlock, could you repeat what I have just said?”  
Sherlock swallowed and looked down, before mumbling an apology (he shouldn’t be apologising; he was clearly in the middle of an experiment, not that she would care.). A few snickers emerged from the left side of the classroom, probably from Moriarty’s side. Sherlock turned his head from the (divorced. Cat-lover. Owns two, no, four, Russian blues. Stupid breed of cat. No children. Lactose intolerant.) teacher to glare at Jim, who smiled and waved at Sherlock before whispering something to his boyfriend Seb.  
“...As I was saying, we have a new student joining us today. His name is John Watson and he’s just moved here from Sussex, so let’s all welcome him with open arms. ” Ms Montsomething-or-other looked pointedly at Sherlock before turning to the whiteboard, waving a black (quickdrying. Likely to stain skin and clothes) pen around as her loopy handwriting filled the blank space.  
“And on another exciting note, today we will be starting our newest unit of work: Space! Now isn’t that exciting?”  
(Same adjective used twice suggests limited intellectual capacity.)  
Sherlock exhaled through his nose, about to turn his (precious) attention to the experiment he was originally trying to complete, when a phrase caught his attention.  
“...working in groups that I will put you in. Yes, that includes our famous Mr Holmes. No complaining, it will be all sorted out by me and there will be no swapping! That means you, Victor! No exceptions, Irene!”  
Sherlock looked up at Miss Montgummyshoe (might as well entertain himself while not bothering with her name) in shock. Groups? All of them? This class was full of idiots, with the unpleasant exception of Jim. If she would dare-  
At that moment a blond boy entered the room, breathing heavily yet quietly (from the run up the stairs? No, he looks fit) and looking slightly dishevelled. Sherlock froze.  
“Sorry I’m late, Ms Montsmith. I had rugby practice. I managed to escape, though.” He grinned bashfully and Sherlock could swear that he was drugged. The lights didn’t usually flash that brightl- oh.  
Sherlock felt a pleasant-yet-not-quite-welcome feeling crawl up his spine.  
“That’s quite alright, John dear. Take a seat behind Miss Hooper. I’m sure she’ll bring you up to speed.” John smiled.  
“I think I’m already up to speed, thank you very much.” The boy (John. His name is John. ) flashed another blinding grin at Ms Montsmith before lifting up a sports bag onto the desk next to Molly. She blushed involuntarily before guiltily turning to Sherlock (Molly Hooper has a crush on me, Sherlock noted dutifully and placed the card in the “possible blackmail” section of his mind palace)  
Ms Montsmith cleared her throat and carried on.  
“As I was saying, I have already sorted you into groups. There will be four groups of four, and one three. Projects can be chosen after the seating plan is rearranged.”  
Sherlock sighed, bracing himself for a group made up of Jim Moriarty (oh god, just- not him.), Sally Donovan (the taunting wouldn’t stop if he’d shower her with diamonds.) and some lovesick girl like Molly Hooper (who had no clue he wasn’t interested in girls, thank you very much.)  
Instead, the teacher called out a list of names Sherlock couldn’t have been more surprised by.  
“Group one, we will have Gregory Lestrade, Molly Hooper, our new addition to the class, John Watson and...Hmm...the insufferable Mr Holmes. Off you go, then! Find yourself a table! Remember that our topic is space!”  
And with that, she was gone, probably to put together a team of evil or pathetic. It depends in which one Jim would end up in.  
A hand reached over to move his stuff and Sherlock looked up, slightly annoyed. The owner of the hand smirked and sat down opposite Sherlock, followed by Molly Hooper. Molly blushed and stammered a quick greeting, but she was completely ignored because John Watson sat down right next to him, and was sitting there and smiling unnervingly.  
“Hey.”  
Sherlock looked thrown for a moment, before realising that John was talking to him. Greg turned to Molly, raising an amused eyebrow.  
“Hello.” Sherlock swallowed, his mind filling with deductions. (rugby player, dog lover, doesn’t own a dog, plans on studying medicine, father, no, grandfather was in the army, abusive parent, alcoholic sibling) Molly turned away with a crestfallen look.  
“So, from what I gather you’re the class clown?”  
“Oh please, they’re so stupid they nearly entertain me. But they don’t, because they’re dull and boring.”  
Sherlock turned away from the three staring people and towards his experiment (why was everyone interrupting him? What happened to “leave the freak alone”?)  
Greg cleared his throat.  
“Nice to meet you, mate. I’m Greg and this is my friend Molly” Molly smiled halfheartedly at John.  
“Hi! I’m Molly and I love cats!”  
“Obviously, judging by the state of that awful jumper. Who let you wear that?” Sherlock snapped, his eyes glued to the rack of test tubes he was balancing on the pile of textbooks. They slipped precariously, Sherlock uttering a string of curses and grabbing the thing before it fell off. Molly looked taken aback. Greg frowned. John stared at him, smiling in a way that made Sherlock uneasy.  
“You’re a rugby player, judging by the sports bag and placement of back muscles. You like dogs, but don’t have one, which could either mean your brother, alcoholic by the look of the phone, is allergic or your parents won’t let you for other reasons. You have slight insomnia- wait, no, you can’t sleep because your parents argue very loudly, very violently judging by that bruise on your left shoulder. Not a rugby bruise, it’s about a week old and unless you’ve been playing rugby while moving house, which you weren’t because everything about you says “happy to help”, which means you were packing up your stuff. Your brother gets into arguments all the time, he’s older than you but you feel compelled to look after him, for some reason or other. That could be your natural instincts, or it could be the fact that you want to become a doctor. Medical handbook in your bag.”  
As soon as he said it, he looked at his feet. Stupid. Stupid. Now this new boy will completely freak out and join the taunting in a heartbeat.  
Instead, John shook his head slowly, uttering a single, unexpected word.  
“Brilliant.”  
Sherlock looked up.  
“What?”  
“Sorry, did I say that out loud?”  
Greg huffed.  
“Come on, lovebirds, we have a science project to do.”  
And with that, without waiting for a reaction from any one of the people sat round table one, the bell rang for the next lesson.


	2. Team Opportunity: Unfavourable Circumstances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary tries to make a move, and the team names are decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be updating this (I hope) daily and although I've set the chapter limit to five, I'll probably expand on it. Sorry this is a bit short. Enjoy!

Sherlock Holmes definitely saw a lot of John Watson around school. It started out as a friendly, accidental meeting by the lockers, but quickly evolved into the two of them revising maths and chemistry at break time. Sherlock didn’t quite know what to think of this development.  
Friday came around, and with Friday came science. The students piled into the classroom, grumbling about it being cold and slightly damp from the recent downpour.  
Sherlock sat down in his normal seat at the back of the class, and was soon joined by an eager Molly Hooper (Even bothered to put on makeup. How utterly mundane.) and Greg. Ms. Montsmith occupied her chair at the front of the class, grimacing slightly in what was a poor attempt of a smile.  
“Now class, as you are the most able- Jim, dear, stop pulling faces at Sebastian or I’ll swap you around- in the year group, I’ve decided to change this into somewhat of a competition. Choose a group name and I’ll hand out the topics you can choose from. And here’s John. Rugby practice? Again? Dear me.” She frowned and was about to put a late mark by John’s name when (much to Sherlock’s confusion) Mary looked Ms Montsmith in the eyes and knocked a beaker off the table, causing a silent stare-off between teacher and student.  
John looked equally confused as he sat down (next to Sherlock, not opposite him like people usually did) and opened his textbook.  
“Right. Guessing from Ms Montgrumpy up on the high-and-mighty chair’s explanation of the task, we have to come up with a team name. What do you think, Greg?”  
Greg shrugged and flicked his pen across the table.  
“I’m not that much good with making up names. How ‘bout you and Molly have a go?”  
Sherlock cleared his throat loudly.  
“...Or you could also ask the great Mr Holmes for reference.” Greg rolled his eyes. John looked at him quizzically.  
“How about we all contribute towards the name, okay?”  
Molly looked up suddenly, beaming.  
“How about ‘Team Opportunity’?” She burbled, blushing slightly. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.  
“How about ‘Three Idiots Who Are About To Cause Me To Spontaneously Combust’?” He snapped. Greg shifted in his chair.  
“Do you have any better ideas?”  
“Piss off.”  
John decided to join (intervene) in the conversation.  
“’Team opportunity’ it is. Well done Molly.” Molly blushed again, glancing at Sherlock. Sherlock huffed. It was beginning to get annoying, all this gooey-eyed stuff. He’d have to tell her (rudely point it out) later.

From across the room, whooping and cheering could be heard. The vow of silence disintegrated as soon as the groups were formed, much to the dismay of the teacher. Jim and Seb were quarrelling loudly over whether it should be “Contagious Intelligence” (Jim’s doing, most probably.) or “Contagious Assassins” (Sebastian’s idea.). Mary was sitting on her desk, chewing on her pen and solving a crossword. Irene was reapplying her lipstick and humming.  
To the left of Team Opportunity, Sally Donovan and Philip Anderson were debating (as if they’d ever use that word, the idiots.) over Philip’s faithfulness (ah, so Sally did notice the text messages). Victor was splayed across the table, trying to hold a polite conversation with Mike while avoiding any corrosive spillages that had occurred mere seconds before.  
Ms Montsmith picked up her chair and carried it to the middle of the classroom. She stepped up on it, raising her hand in a gesture for silence.  
“Can I please take your team names? Table one, what is your final decision?”  
Sherlock sighed heavily and mumbled something about illiterate imbeciles but walked over to the teacher, team name on a scrap of paper in his hand.  
“How wonderful! Team Opportunity! ” She exclaimed in a slightly patronizing tone. Molly muttered that it sounded better in her head. Irene smirked, turning to face Jim.  
“Bet you ten quid that Molly asks Sherlock out before the end of the lesson.”  
Jim turned to his boyfriend, exchanged a knowing look, and shook his head.  
“Bet you fifteen quid that she’s rejected before she can even try.”  
Irene shrugged. “Got you a deal.” Mary snickered over her crossword, laying her pen down and craning her head to look Jim in the eye.  
“I’ll bet you all a fiver each that I’ll get blondie to ask me out before this science project is over.”  
Sebastian turned towards her, grinning.  
“Who, Johnny boy? The one who’s literally glued himself to our Sherly?”  
Mary smiled slyly. “That’s the one.”  
The remaining three members of Contagious Intelligence pondered over this suggestion before breaking out into equally evil smirks.  
“Deal.”  
“Okay, why not.”  
“Sure.”

Meanwhile, Team Opportunity was deciding on a project and wondering why on earth everybody was being so ridiculously noisy.  
“That’s how they always are, John, pay no attention to them.” Greg said, his eyes glued to the spreadsheet about solar flares. John managed a grunt in reply.  
Sherlock stayed silent, trying to push the idea of how horribly endearing John looked while studying away. He failed miserably. Sighing, he faced the idea that the next few weeks might be more than he bargained for- ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope to see you next update! Don't forget I'm also writing a series of Johnlock drabbles and one-shots, so if you'd like to suggest an au or headcannon please leave me an ask on my tumblr!  
> http://i-am-not-your-baby-unicorn.tumblr.com/


	3. Team Opportunity: The Break-Up (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is overcomplicated, and so are science projects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not quite sure how many chapters this fic will have, but I'm aiming for about 7. Sorry if this is a bit short, yet again! Expect an update a day. Please comment and leave constructive criticism, for this is my first fanfic!

__

John leaned over the desk, obscuring Greg’s view of the plan. So far, they had made a decision to do something or other about sunspots. Molly was sitting cross-legged on the desk, frowning at the laptop screen.

“Uhm, guys, I think the NASA website is crashing. It’s not displaying anything except ‘Error 304’” She looked up expectantly.

“Oh for the love of- Molly, refresh the page.” Sherlock threw his hands up into the perfect pose for ‘distraught and annoyed’. Molly glared at him, then turning to Greg as if to say ‘do something’. Greg shrugged and took the laptop off of her.

“Sherlock, take a look at this. It’s not working.” John raised an eyebrow, turning in the direction of the curly-haired boy.

“Course it isn’t, you’re all idiots. Molly, did you turn on the wifi? No?” He smiled smugly and Molly blushed involuntarily. (oh god, not this again. Not Molly and her stupid reactions to everything I say.) Greg looked hurt for a minute, but directed his attention to fixing the computer while John sighed overdramatically.

“What are you mortals doing over here?” A voice disturbed the bickering team. The owner of the voice smirked as all the group members turned to him in unison, all equally thrown off course.

“Oh ha ha. Very amusing, Jim. Would you be so kind and piss off?” Sherlock’s icy tone was thrown off by a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, Sherlock. I’m sure you remember my old friend, Mary. She’d like to join your group.” Mary smiled, tilting her head to the side. Jim grinned.

Sherlock shook his head. “Ms Montsmith said no swapping. And besides, we don’t need any more idiots in this team.”

Mary removed her hand off Sherlock’s shoulder blade. “Oh, I’m no idiot. Can’t say that about most of your team, though.” She beamed at John, who furrowed his brow and suddenly became very intrigued by the graffiti scratched onto the table (presumably done with a scalpel, plenty of those around during biology.)

“JIM! C’MERE.” Irene shouted from the corner table. Jim scowled.

“Better get going. Mary, make yourself at home.”

“Mary, fuck off.”

“Sherlock!” Molly gasped. Greg grinned.

“’S not his fault Moriarty’s being a twat.”

“That doesn’t justify anything!” Molly protested. John snickered, regarding Sherlock fondly. Sherlock swallowed with difficulty before turning away from that piercing blue gaze towards the intruder.

“I apologise, Mary. Could you- _kindly-_ fuck off?”

John started giggling, followed by Greg. Molly looked even more scandalized. Mary shrugged.

“It was just a suggestion. Between you four, you have three idiots and a genius who doesn’t like people. Good luck winning that prize.”

Greg stopped giggling. “Hang on, what prize? Nobody mentioned a prize!”

Mary pressed a finger to her lips. “Ah, that would be telling.”

Molly’s gaze softened as she leaned back in her chair, laptop clutched to her chest. “Then tell us.”

“I’m afraid you lot should’ve listened in class instead of arguing over team names.”

John snorted. “As if your team did anything last lesson.”

Mary tilted her head again (tries to appear unnerving- intimidation tactic) and a smile played on her lips. “Believe me, we did.”

John sat up in his chair, shuffling slightly closer to Mary, who was now glancing over at Sherlock. “And what did you then?”

“Nothing that concerns yo- actually, your name came up quite a lot.” She frowned. Sherlock and John shifted in their seats, each one for slightly different reasons.

 “And those reasons would be...?” Molly casually interrupted.

“None of your business, Hooper. Go back to making lovesick faces at Sherly.” Molly’s face went crimson. Mary tittered. “Struck a nerve? Oh, I’m sorry, but it’s obvious. And from what Jim has been telling me while ‘deducing’, our Sherly isn’t interested in you-or in girls for that matter.” It was Sherlock’s turn to turn red. Molly gaped at Mary, then at Greg, who was staying tactfully silent (and John, who was looking very confused), then back to Mary before her gaze settled on Sherlock.

“Y-you mean... I’ve made a fool of myself for the past three years?”

“Yep.” Mary popped the ‘p’ and dazzled the group with her smile. Molly looked down, blinking fiercely as her face crumpled.

Greg leaped in. “Now don’t be like that, don’t cry- John, help me, what do I do? John?” John shrugged and made a shooing gesture, clearly indicating that the best option would be to take Molly out of the classroom while Ms Montsmith wasn’t paying attention. Sherlock pulled a face.

“Was that _really_ so distressing? I obviously haven’t been returning any of her affections. I don’t see why she’s upset.” He sat back in his seat. John stared at him.

“So you and Molly aren’t an item?” John blinked a couple of times. Sherlock gawked at him.

“Are you really that thick? Course we aren’t. Or ever would be.”

“Good. Er, so I presume you’re unattached. Good.” John cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Back to business boys. You seem to be a team member down, and ‘Contagious Intelligence’ will be fine without me- and here’s Greg.”

Greg walked in, slightly flushed. He avoided Sherlock’s gaze as he sat down, but gave him a death glare after he turned back to Mary.

“Molly says she quits.”

“We deduced as much.”

“Great. We’re down to three team members and we don’t have a researcher.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Apparently, we do. Mary seems to be interested in the job.”

John looked sour. “So- we’re taking her?” Sherlock sighed.

“That’s the general idea, yes.”

“Oh. Okay. Here are the notes.” He handed a small pile of brightly coloured and highlighted papers. Mary took them and sat down.

“Right. Where do we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The project Team Opportunity is doing:  
>  http://www.sciencebuddies.org/science-fair-projects/project_ideas/Astro_p005.shtml
> 
> The project Contagious Intelligence is doing:  
>  http://www.sciencebuddies.org/science-fair-projects/project_ideas/Astro_p021.shtml
> 
> The project Group Stargazers is doing:   
> http://www.sciencebuddies.org/science-fair-projects/project_ideas/Astro_p022.shtml
> 
> Also, to clear some things up:  
> Team Opportunity: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Greg Lestrade, Molly Hooper  
> Contagious Intelligence: Jim Moriarty, Sebastian Moran, Irene Adler, Mary Morstan  
> Group Stargazers: Sally Donovan, Philip Anderson, Victor Trevor, Mike Stanford


	4. Team Opportunity: The Break Up (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock decides that Greg can be left to his own devices and drags John out of science, much to Irene's glee. But what exactly is going on between Moriarty and Miss Adler?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit on the short side, I just hope it's alright!

__

 

Irene watched from across the classroom, an amused expression painted across her marble-like features.

A voice interfered with her thoughts. “You owe me fifteen quid, Lady Adler.”

Jim’s waiting hand groped the air, demanding money. Irene rolled her eyes, mouth turned down in distaste at the idea of losing such an obvious bet.

“Oh, my dear Moriarty, this was far too easy for you. It was completely blatant that Mary would fulfil your command and express your opinion while trying to win her bet. Even that slow idiot Anderson would be expecting such an outcome.”

Moriarty’s smile turned upside down quicker than a shade of lightening.

“Ah. Not willing to pay me? Fine. Let’s strike another time.”

“I get to make the bet. For thirty quid this time. In cash.”

“In cash. Sebastian, darling, could you pass me my wallet? Thanks.”

“I don’t need proof that you have the money, Jim. I just want to play the dangerous game.”

Jim’s eyes flashed. “And what will be your bet?”

Irene leaned forward and whispered into his ear. He tilted backward in his chair, a shocked air about him. But he grinned.

“Oh, you’re a tricky one for sure. Deal.”

Irene laughed briefly. “Good. Now let’s get on before Team Sunshine over there get their act together.”

Greg flipped through the pages of the latest edition of some teen science magazine without any outcomes. Mary was lying on the desk, book above her face, clearly uninterested in helping at all. Sherlock was sitting in his chair facing away from them, hands steepled, trying to gather all the information he had about solar flares and sun spots that he might have in his mind palace. After half an hour, he let out an irritated groan and jumped to his feet, scaring the wits out of John.

“Bored!”

“Jesus freakin’ bloody Christ Sherlock! Can you give ten seconds warning before you do that? Honestly...”

“Bored, John! I’m bored!”

Greg huffed. “You can help out here, we would really ‘ppreciate it.” Mary pulled a face.

“Take him outside. Go do some research. Whatever. ” She turned onto her stomach. Lestrade glared at her.

“If you dare leave this room in the middle of the project that takes up sixty percent of our final grade, I swear you won’t be welcomed back in.” He growled at Sherlock, who was standing a few feet away inspecting a younger year’s petri dish. The teenager shrugged nonchalantly, glancing back at John.

“I’m sorry Greg, but I think we have research to do. In the library. Come on, Sherlock.” John pushed past what was left of Team Opportunity and headed out the door. After a very brief period of shock, Sherlock ran after him, muttering something about morons and bacteria cultures not supposed to be left on radiators.

Irene smugly whipped round to face the rest of Contagious Intelligence, who were bit-by-bit piecing together a decent report.

“Just as I expected, Jim. Mmm, I can already smell the cash.”

“Oh, shut up Adler. Mary hasn’t made her move yet.”

“Oh really?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“OI, GUYS. COULD USE SOME HELP OV’R ‘ERE?” Seb called from one of the computers. Irene sighed dramatically, as if her friend’s boyfriend was being the most ridiculous person on Earth.

“Go and sort him out, Jim. Make out in a corner somewhere. Do stuff. I’ve-” She paused, her blue eyes sparkling. “-got a job to do.”

“Coming from a slut, that’s not very good advice. I expected better sex tips from you.”

“Did you just insult-”

“Yes, yes, blah blah blah, slut shaming is bad, blah blah blah...”

“I’d fucking slap you if I wasn’t so terribly busy with all this espionage. Good day to you too.” She picked up her bag and made a half-baked excuse to their dozing teacher before leaving the classroom.

Irene Adler had had her fair share of romantic conquests, her newest one a pretty girl named Kate. Thanks to them, she had brought out aspects of her personality she didn’t know existed. Like the stealth. Irene Adler was as silent as a cat seeping into the shadows of midnight when it came to it. And today was one of those days. She glanced over her shoulder briefly before making her way after the bickering students that had left the class minute before.

Greg blew air out through his nose in a sign of utter defeat and disbelief. He was stuck in a classroom full of snogging teenagers, sleeping teachers, missing or unresponsive teammates, and a project nowhere near done.  But right now, he’d kill for some coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being so nice to me! I love every single one of you who have read this fic so much!  
> Also, I know you all probably expect Moriarty to be extremely evil and that stuff, but I'm sorry, canon divergence sometimes happens and I see more him as a misunderstood evil mastermind than a ruthless killer; he's clever, he calculates, and he gets Seb to do stuff for him.  
> Although he definitely puts the fun in funeral and hot in psychotic
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, please leave comments and constructive criticism, I can't improve anything if I don't know how! And excuse all typos, I don't have a beta reader :(


	5. Team opportunity- The Betting Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, things never go to plan. And Sherlock has keen hearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short! I ran out of time as I had my German and Latin exams to go to :( I'll make it up to you guys!

__

Molly Hooper sighed through her nose pointedly. It was a while until she’d calmed down enough to come back into the classroom, only to join Sally and Philip in Group Stargazers. The project seemed fun enough, but her mind was occupied with Sherlock. How dare he lead her on like that! That- that utter _bastard._ John could have him for all she cared. Molly wasn’t oblivious, only slightly blinded by her crush on Sherlock to notice before. The stares. The light smiles. Prolonged touches. John’s sass could equal Sherlock’s rudeness any day.

Molly turned her paper over. Victor Trevor was smiling at her. She blushed, only to notice he wasn’t smiling _at her_ , but at the people in team four. She deflated inside. Picking up her work, she swept a piece of paper off the table. It wasn’t her work, and it looked too neat to be Mike’s. Curiosity overwhelmed her as she put her stuff down and inspected the short paragraph of small, jaunty letters. She gasped, blood rushing to her face, and crumpled it up, jamming it inside her coat pocket before anyone could see.

 

“Did it work, Jimmy m’darlin’?” Sebastian leaned on Jim’s shoulder, reaching out to grab Irene’s abandoned energy drink. Jim shook his head.

“Not yet, Seb. We don’t want to be paying out thirty pounds before this project is over, so I suggest you get a move on.”

Sebastian grumbled and cast the empty can into the litter bin like an expert bowler. “I don’t feel like doing anything.”

Moriarty smirked. “Anything? Are you suuure?”

“You know I have fencing tonight.”

Jim scowled. “Fine. We’re not doing that type of anything tonight, then. But can you try and do something to prevent Irene’s plan from freaking working?”

“Jeez, talk about Mr difficult.” Sebastian leaned forward and kissed Jim briefly. “If you really feel like thirty pounds is that much.”

“It’s not about the money, it’s about the power. I have money.”

“Sure it isn’t.” Seb threw over his shoulder nonchalantly. “I’m sure it isn’t.”

 

Irene slinked down the corridor like satin sheets fall off a bed- silently. John and Sherlock were standing a few feet away, bickering over where to go. She stopped, tilting her head to get a better view of the situation.

“...Now I told you Sherlock, ‘don’t offend Greg! He’s the only one actually working!’ and what do you do? Get him mad!”

“John, do quit shouting at me, you’re making quite a scene. We were supposed to go to the library, am I not mistaken?”

“That was an excuse to get out of there!”

“Oh.”

“...You didn’t realize?”

The truth was that Sherlock had been too star-struck by the thought that John _might actually willingly go somewhere with him_ to think about the subtext.

“Of course I realized. Don’t be absurd.”

Irene snickered and clamped a hand over her mouth. Sherlock paused for a moment, eyeing the pillar that she was hidden behind warily. After about five seconds, he deemed it unimportant and fell in step besides John, who was grinning madly.

“What?” he asked indignantly.

“Someone’s following us.”


	6. Team opportunity- Reunion, sort of.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock try and track their tracker while their tracker tracks them down.It might be complicated, but things are said and Greg finally gets his coffee.

__

There was a knock on the classroom door. Ms Montsmith, who was currently snoring slightly while leaning against her desk, didn’t even flinch. Greg muttered something under his breath about disruptions and _the sodding aspiring chemist or detective or whatever the annoying prat wanted to be_.

“Coffee.” A smooth baritone claimed as a cup was thrust under his nose. Greg looked up. Victor was standing above him, smiling slightly. The last surviving member of Team Opportunity smiled (grimaced) and offered a grunt in reply as thanks. Victor was gone.

Greg was just about to take a long-awaited sip of caffeine when a scrunched-up piece of paper caught his eye. He lazily lifted his cup and picked up the note. Greg unrolled it just as he was taking a sip of coffee, raising an eyebrow in anticipation. He then sputtered and jammed it into his pocket, pretending it never existed.

From across the room Seb chuckled briefly.

 

John was still grinning as they entered the library, walking in step and slightly closer now that they knew they had a tail. (Or closer for other reasons, John hoped. Sherlock then hissed at him to hurry up, and the thought was lost in a whirlwind of emotions and excitement.)

“Where shall we go now?” Sherlock announced loudly, more to their stalker than to John. John snickered.

“Gee, I wouldn’t kno-” John began, but earned a surprisingly painful jab in the ribs. He whipped round to face his attacker.

“What was that for? Jesus, Sherlock-”

“For being obvious. And an idiot.” (And extremely, excruciatingly, annoyingly perfect, Sherlock added mentally.)

 

From the safe haven of the corridor, Irene listened in to the pair of them.

“Shit.” She hissed quietly to herself. “Sherlock’s got me on his radar. If only that bloody Jim didn’t-”

John loud announcement interrupted her. “Sherlock, let’s go to the library! It’ll _help_ us a _lot_ , don’t you think?”

She fell flat against the wall, waiting for Sherlock’s reply.

“Why, John, that’s precisely what _I_ was _thinking_! Let’s do!”

A giggle from John.

“Who says ‘Let’s do!’ anymore, Sherlock? This isn’t the twentieth century!”

A sigh from Sherlock.

“I say it, and you’re an idiot for not doing the same.”

“You once told me that repetitive vocabulary is a sign of low I.Q.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

There was a gasp from both sides and then a silence. Irene peered out from behind the wall.

She then promptly dropped her notebook and ran back to the classroom, face lit up with joy.

Boy, was she going to get that thirty pounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squeee!!! I hope you enjoyed this, for I sure did enjoy writing it! I'll update again soon. See ya!  
> Again, apologies for the length of this chapter.


	7. Team Opportunity: The Happening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened that time Irene ran off? I guess you'll have to find out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so sorry guys for not updating! I know I promised you an update daily, but my exams caught up with me and for the past week I've been trying to cram three different languages into my head, so excuse my terrible crimes. Also, kinda short, but I promise chapter 8 will be at least 2,000 words long :D  
> Anyway, here's the second-to-last chapter of Team Opportunity!  
> I've actually been thinking about doing another series based on Teen!lock as it's one of my favourite au's  
> What do you think? Comment if you have any suggestions!  
> Also, sorry if the writing's not that good- It's my first fic!

Mary stretched out on the table, shoving Greg’s coffee to the side. It tipped precariously, but luckily the owner of the caffeinated beverage caught it before it fell off the table. Greg glared at the figure sprawled all over their research.

“Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t particularly mind you doing crossword puzzles and procrastinating, but would it honestly kill you not to spill my coffee?” Greg said in an tired tone. Mary shrugged.

“I guess not.” Grinning, she moved closer. “Did you get any... notes today?”

Greg sputtered into his coffee.

“N-no. I- I did not get any notes. Who said anything about a note?”

“I did, dumbass. Now hand it over.”

“N-  er, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Seriously.”

Mary raised her eyebrows.

“You see, I don’t particularly care about this particular piece of paper. But somebody does, and is willing to pay for it. Now are you going to hand it over or should I make a scene?”

“Go on, then. Wake Ms Montsmith up. I dare you.”

Mary tipped her head back, giggling. She licked her lips.

“What’s the forfeit?”

“What’s with you guys and bloody betting games? Honestly, I’ve noticed what a ruckus your ex-team’s been putting on, and I was doing the project all along!”

“Ah, that would be telling! But yes, we have been betting. Irene even had to hand over fifteen quid!”

“Did she?”

“No she struck another-”

Irene burst into the room, eyes alight with a mischievous glint.

“JIM! I THINK I MIGHT BE WINNING!”

Jim looked up from an article about serial killers Sebastian had brought with him and scowled.

“How’s that, Irene? Any proof?”

Irene smiled deviously.

“If we’re fast enough, you’ll see it with your own eyes.”

“See what?” Mike butted in, clearly interested. Victor nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, see what? We all want to see, and the old bat’s asleep. Why shouldn’t we all go and see this apparent ‘miracle’? I mean, who’s with me?”

Sally and Philip raised their hands. Greg sighed. Molly looked around curiously.

“Fine. We can all go.” Jim grabbed on to Seb and pulled him after Irene, who was already disappearing behind the door. The rest of the class followed meekly, silent in case Mrs. Hudson (the head teacher) might’ve been out.

 

 

I’m sure, dear readers, you are all extremely curious to what happened to our protagonists. And I shall keep you in the dark no longer.

Sherlock threw a brash look over his shoulder at John, who was trying not to laugh as he announced loudly that they were going to the library. John glared at him, daring him to reply, which he did, sending the blonde into another fit of giggles.

“Who says ‘Let’s do!’ anymore, Sherlock? This isn’t the twentieth century!”

“I say it, and you’re an idiot for not doing the same.”

John stared at Sherlock, who was smiling innocently, which for some reason made him look like a serial killer. (A hot serial killer, John’s brain added. Putting the fun in funeral and the laughter in manslaughter.)

“You once told me that repetitive vocabulary is a sign of low I.Q.”

“Shut up.” Sherlock blushed. He really was throwing the word ‘idiot’ around quite a lot lately. (Anderson’s fault.)

John opened his (perfect, Sherlock noted, before blushing even harder.) lips and uttered two words that changed things.

“Make. Me.”

 

“Hurry up you guys, we’re gonna miss it!” Irene called as she dragged Jim by the wrist. Seb grumbled something about being manhandled by two people, but a glare from his boyfriend silenced him.

“Miss what?” Hissed Greg, trying to keep up with the unearthly pace Miss Adler had put on.

“You’ll see.” Irene grinned as they turned the corner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll post another chapter soon enough. I'm also in the middle of thiking about writing a 30-day-otp-challange, but for multiple otps, like Destiel, Johnlock, Mormor etc.  
> Just keep an eye on this space! Coming Soon!  
> {I believe in TJLC}  
> [Sherlock is gay, John is Bi, Mary is a villain, baby is a plot device and Johnlock is endgame.]  
> Stay strong, my brethren!  
> Oh, and if any of you like Siken!lock (Check it out, it's heartbreaking) Richard Siken is releasing a new book in April (a.k.a. Sherlock spoilers :P)  
> Also if you're looking for good fics check out my bookmarks as I've come across some truly fantastic works in the past.  
> Thanks guys! see you soon!
> 
> not_a_baby_unicorn


	8. Team opportunity: Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things finally are sorted out.

It was only logical, really. Everybody should’ve seen it coming.

But John Watson definitely _did not_ see what happened next as predictable. Rather the opposite, in fact.

He’d definitely spent a lot of time with Sherlock, even threatened some people who made fun of him in philosophy class. Sherlock muttered something under his breath that could’ve been a “Thanks”-  John didn’t hear him clearly as _some bloody idiot_ pushed him into his friend. (He planned to kill Greg later, both for the shove and for the ‘love birds’ comment he made in class earlier that week.). Instead, he had to get up off of (blushing? That was new.) Sherlock. He was about to try and help him up when he noticed Irene sitting opposite them, furiously scribbling something down on notepaper and handing a folded letter to Victor, who proceeded to fold it up into an even tinier square and shove it in his bag. This all happened in a split second, but when John turned round he’d found Sherlock across the classroom.

“Sorry, Greg pushed me.”

_It was only logical, really. Everybody should’ve seen it coming._

Sherlock looked up from tidying his things off the desk.

“It’s fine.”

And he was out of the door, his ridiculously expensive coat flaring out behind him as the day ended. John sighed. (Why did he feel so exasperated? It was rather stupid to feel like that. Then why?)

_It was only logical, really. Everybody should’ve seen it coming._

The teacher glanced up at John, who was picking up his rugby kit and about to head back to the field.

“You guys had a bit of a tiff?”

John frowned. Teachers usually did not get involved in student’s personal lives.

“Why d’you ask, Mr Merryfield?”

Mr Merryfield laughed crisply. It was an unpleasant sound. The whole of Mr Merryfield was unpleasant. Generally, teachers stayed away from Sherlock or at least stopped the jeering (Or so John had heard from Sherlock, as not many dared to make fun of Sherlock ever since his arrival from Sussex.) but Mr Merryfield was a teacher who enjoyed torturing his students. And while the class was mostly bright, this particular teacher took great pleasure in making the clever students feel different, feel different in a bad way. (As if Sherlock wasn’t bullied enough, John thought every time Mr Merryfield’s gaze would slide past the brunette.)Mr Merryfield had first taken to Jim, but after several _anonymous_ death threats and an angry member of the country’s under-eighteen fencing team, he’d moved onto Sherlock. Sherlock, who loved to show off, and shout, and just bring attention to himself. Of course he would be this teacher’s next target.  John clenched his fists.

_It was only logical, really. Everybody should’ve seen it coming._

“Just asking. Usually, you are all over each other, nearly slobbering over each other’s shoulders- you’re too short to reach his face. Today you actually had to be pushed by a fellow classmate to get within three feet of each other.”

John winced. Yes, he knew he was a bit on the short side, and he had gotten used to comments about that. But they weren’t- They didn’t-

_It was only logical, really. Everybody should’ve seen it coming._

“Spare me an explanation. I already get enough with those two in the corner. Anonymous death threats my arse.” He huffed and pulled his glasses down. “And you, John Watson, need to control your anger. Should I sign you up for an anger management class? My, philosophy doesn’t usually get students so roused up.”

John knew that if he stayed in there just a _second_ longer, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

_It was only logical, really. Everybody should’ve seen it coming._

“Oh, and John? You would do so much better if you dropped the whole bisexual fad all the kids are picking up these days-”

John sputtered.

Mr Merryfield carried on. “-also, it would help if you ditched the freak while you’re at it.”

This was a step too far. Insults- he could take those all day. His sister Harry threw enough around for ten. But insult his friend (his best friend, his more-than-friend.) and John knew instantly at that moment the teacher wasn’t getting out of a beating, suspension or exclusion or worse.

_It was only logical, really. Everybody should’ve seen it coming._

He took a step towards him.

“Excuse me, _Sir._ ” He spat, “But my _best friend_ is not a freak. People call him that because they’re idiots. And I’m _sure_ you’d love to call him ‘freak’ to his face, because that’s what little shits like you do. And you know what? I’d gladly punch you right fucking now, but I won’t.” He smiled, eyes unmoving. “Why? Because it would not be satisfactory enough.  Yes, Mr Merryfield, I’ve noticed what you do. You shame. You ridicule. I might not have been at this school long, but I’ve been here long enough to realize that it was probably you who started the whole ‘freak’ thing. Well done for destroying my friends self-esteem.”

Mr Merryfield grinned widely. “His self-esteem? I’m sorry, but numerous drug incidents destroyed that before he even met me.”

“What do you mean, drug incidents?”

“Your boyfriend didn’t tell you? He’s a junkie, in desperate need of a fix.”

John shook his head, nearly snarling at the old man infront of him.

“He’s not-”

“Not what? Your boyfriend? All for the better, I guess. Then you wouldn’t care how he gets the money.”

“Wait, what money?”

The grey-haired tormentor’s face expanded into something of a smirk. He licked his lips before continuing.

“He goes into bars y’know. He ‘deduces’ who has the most money and who desperately needs to-”

“Shut the fuck up!” John snarled, dropping his rugby kit in preparation, not of landing a punch, but of _beating the guy to a pulp._

_It was only logical, really. Everybody should’ve seen it coming._

Suddenly, someone was holding him back. Mike Stamford looked at him pleadingly in a way people do when they try to ask you not to beat up a teacher.

“John, let’s go. We have rugby practice, remember?”

John grunted in reply, eyeing Mr Merryfield bloodthirstily. Because there would be blood the next time. Reluctantly, he followed his friend out of the classroom, leaving a grinning teacher behind.

“What was that all about, mate? You looked like a bloody psycho.”

(Great. So Sherlock was a self-diagnosed sociopath and he looked like a psychopath.  Just great.)

“Nothing, really. He was winding me up, that’s all.”

“Don’t let him get to you.” Mike smiled.

A shadow in an expensive coat melted into the evening sky as the two rugby players explained why exactly they were late to their coach.

_It was only logical, really. Everybody should’ve seen it coming._

“Irene, there’s nothing here. Why did we let you talk us into this again?” Greg hissed as she tried to shush him.

“Patience is a virtue you just don’t seem to possess, Gregory.”

“Oi!”

“Shut up, you two.” Molly sniffed as she crouched down by Irene. “Go on, tell us what to expect.”

Irene turned and pouted. “Aw, that would spoil all the fun.”

Jim nodded. “Exactly as I thought. You definitely saw it?”

“Yes! God’s sake, Jim, trust me for once. Now let’s go this way. Hurry.”

 

_It was only logical, really. Everybody should’ve seen it coming._

Sherlock often did see things coming. This- not so much.

He had seen John talk to Mr Merryfield, and hastily left as soon as he saw that other rugby fellow creep into the classroom.

Nobody had ever defended him. And there was John, glorious, brave John Watson who not only defended him but also called him his best friend.

And there was Mr Merryfield, cruel, twisted Adam Merryfield who not only made fun of John but spilled Sherlock’s secrets.

Sherlock didn’t know which one was worse.

After Mike and John had left the classroom, Sherlock slinked out and tried hard to delete the whole conversation. Yet nothing happened.

“ _Merde_.” He swore, swerving as a motorcycle decided that the pavement was the best place to ride on. Things weren’t going great.

_It was only logical, really. Everybody should’ve seen it coming._

“Come on, guys! We’re nearly there!” Irene shouted as a few voices tried to hush her. Mary rolled her eyes.

“What was the bet, Irene?”

Seb perked up.“No spoilers, Adler!”

“Don’t worry, Moran. Not gonna spoil anything.”

A girl from group four (Megan? Sophia? Irene didn’t particularly care for everybody in the class.) piped up. “Spoil what? You’ve dragged thirty kids out of a science lesson which, must I remind you, counts as sixty percent of our overall grade, to see something and yet here we are, with nothing to see!”

A blonde girl pulled on Megan/Sophia’s arm. “I wouldn’t argue with _them_ , they’re crazy.”

“Shut up, Bethany.”

“You shut up.”

Jim yawned while jogging lazily besides Sebastian. “As much as I love teenage romance, please move quicker. My money’s at stake.”

Bethany glowered purple. “It isn’t ‘teen romance’ or whatever.” She muttered as Megan/Sophia blushed. They did increase the pace, though.

Irene broke out into a wide grin.

“There they are!” She squealed, whumping Moriarty on the arm, which provoked a glare from Seb. But a second later, Sebastian too was staring.

 

_It was only logical, really. Everybody should’ve seen it coming._

But there were two people who most definitely did not see it coming- John and Sherlock themselves.

They were kissing, surrounded by a crowd of about thirty students, the same students who had followed Irene’s lead out of the classroom to prove a point. But at this moment, even Sherlock Holmes didn’t notice the two teenage girls smiling awkwardly (hopeless crushes on each other’s boyfriends), or a swearing Jim (lost a bet), or even Irene whooping and hollering loud enough to wake up the dead- let alone their elderly science teacher.  All that mattered at that moment was john, and an inkling told Sherlock that the feeling was mutual. They pulled away, breathing heavily  and red faced.

“Took you long enough to get here, Irene.” John commented as he wrapped his arm round his (boy?)friend’s waist.

“Ah, so you did hear me. Dammit!”

“Still get the money from James though, right?”

Jim glowered. “No she doesn’t.”

Sebastian laughed. “Such a sore loser.”

“Mmh, I’ll show you how sore you can be tonight.”

Molly blushed crimson at those words. “C-Congratulations?”

 Sherlock dismissed her completely. It was the end of term, he had a John Watson hugging him round the waist (one he’d just snogged, no less), and a Jim Moriarty cussing and hissing at Irene.

“EY, WHERE’D MY STUDENTS GO?” An annoyed voice hollered from upstairs.

He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this fic :D

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of this fic, let's pretend all the characters are about the same age (15/16)
> 
> As I mentioned before, I'll be writing a series of drabbles and one-shots and would greatly appreciate if I got some AU's and prompts on my tumblr: http://i-am-not-your-baby-unicorn.tumblr.com/


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